


Going For It

by house_of_lantis



Series: Paying the Bills [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Natasha/Clint (mentioned), Recreational Drug Use, Sam/Sharon Carter (mentioned), Slow Burn, Steve/Thor (minor), bucky/tony established
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8822416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: Tony spends time with Steve, getting to know him a little better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky/Tony (established)  
> Tony/Steve - Building friendship, flirting, kissing, touching, slow burn  
> Bucky/Tony/Steve - This is the end game

**Steve & Bucky’s Apartment**

**Brooklyn**

 

“Here,” Bucky said, holding out a piece of blue paper.

 

“What is it?”

 

Steve looked up from the sketch pad on his lap and took it from him. He realized that it was one of Bucky’s personal checks from his not-secret checking account. His eyes widened at the dollar amount written in Bucky’s clean, block handwriting. He looked up at Bucky, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“What’s this for?”

 

“My share of the rent for the rest of the year.”

 

Steve shook his head, holding the check out to Bucky. “I can’t take this.”

 

“Look, Stevie, I’m barely here as it is and I feel guilty that you’re paying the rent by yourself, okay? My name’s still on the lease, so that means that I still owe half.”

 

“Bucky--”

 

“It’s not charity or whatever stupid thing you’re thinking,” he said, folding his arms in front of his chest and raising his eyebrow at Steve. “Fair and square. That’ll hold you over until you can find a new roommate to take up my share of the rent and utilities.”

 

He didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live with someone who wasn’t Bucky. Maybe it was kind of unrealistic to believe that he and Bucky would always live together; remnants of boyhood dreams of it being the two of them against the world.

 

Steve blinked, his mouth falling open. “You--you’re going to move out? Officially? Did Stark ask--”

 

“ **_Tony_ ** asked me to move in with him from the beginning. In fact, he’d probably be happier if we both moved into the Tower with him, to tell the truth,” Bucky said, smiling widely as he scooted across the couch towards Steve. “Come on, think about it, we could be right in the heart of the city, not have to worry about paying our rent or taking on four jobs at a time. Think of the views from that high up?”

 

“I thought you loved Brooklyn?”

 

“I do; but I love living with Tony more, so…come on, think about it, move into Stark Tower with us.”

 

 **_With us_ ** , Bucky said, and Steve felt his heart speed up. It was tempting, though he’d never tell Bucky that. Steve worried his bottom lip with his teeth and shook his head. He didn’t want to be the third wheel.

 

“It’ll be awkward.”

 

“Are you still worried about the money? You won’t owe him anything--”

 

“Will you?”

 

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes. “After being with him for a year, money has never been an issue between us.”

 

Steve sighed, tapping his pencil against his sketch pad. “I don’t know, Buck.”

 

“Well, think about it,” he said, grinning. Bucky plucked the personal check from Steve’s fingers and dropped it on his sketch pad. “Deposit that into our account. Seriously, it’s for our rent, okay? Just do this for me, Stevie.”

 

He stared at the $15,000 check and wondered what it would be like to write a check for that amount. He didn’t begrudge Bucky’s money, which he carefully didn’t think about just how Bucky earned it in the first place, and he felt kind of weird taking money Bucky got from Stark for sex.

 

Bucky stood up and reached out to put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. Steve glanced up to see Bucky grinning down at him.

 

“Seriously, Stevie, deposit it tomorrow.”

 

Steve gave him a small grin and sighed. “All right, Buck. Thank you.”

 

“Thank you. And you’re welcome,” he said, pleased. “Hey, want me to make meatloaf for dinner tonight?”

 

“Yes. Please!”

 

Bucky chuckled, heading for the kitchen. “Maybe you should move into the Tower with us, Stevie. Who’s gonna keep you fed? You’ll starve to death without me here to cook!”

 

Steve picked up the check and folded it, tucking it carefully into his shirt pocket.

 

“I can cook!” He groused, staring at the sketch of Bucky’s face in profile. He ran his fingers lightly across Bucky’s jawline on the page.

 

Bucky laughed. “Boiling water to make ramen isn’t cooking.”

 

***

 

**The Metropolitan Museum**

 

Steve stood in front of the Georges Seurat “A Sunday on the Grand Jatte” sketching quickly in his Moleskine journal, trying to keep his lines soft and quick.

 

“Bucky said I’d find you in the Impressionists gallery.”

 

He turned to see Tony Stark standing beside him, gazing at the painting. He was wearing a dark gray suit, a white dress shirt with the top button undone, silver-blue silk necktie pulled loose. Steve recognized it as the one that Steve had gotten for him for his birthday. He had splurged, taken a couple hundred dollars out of his emergency savings, to make sure that he got Tony an expensive gift.

 

_“Happy birthday, Tony,” Steve said, feeling shy and weird as he slid the long, narrow box across the kitchen counter towards Tony._

 

_Tony had hosted a huge birthday gala, a black tie party in the ballroom of The Waldorf-Astoria, with two hundred of his “closest” friends in attendance. The pile of beautifully and professionally wrapped presents by the door was being carefully catalogued by two young women and Steve had hidden Tony’s gift in his jacket._

 

_But Tony had grabbed Bucky and Steve, tugging them out of the ballroom, back to the penthouse for a much more intimate and quiet rest of the evening. Pepper Potts and James Rhodes were already in the living room, changed from their fancy clothes to something more casual, making popcorn and queuing up a Star Wars movie marathon._

 

_“Did you have a good time at the party, Steve?” Tony said, carefully undoing the wrapping paper and opening the box._

 

_“Yeah, it was, uh, really nice. Thanks for inviting me.”_

 

_Bucky snorted, leaning his head back to grin at Steve. “‘Nice,’ he says. That was probably the biggest party of the year and Steve Rogers said it was nice.”_

 

_Tony smiled, running his fingers along the silk tie. “Thanks, Steve, I love it.”_

 

_“Let me see,” Bucky called, pouring coffee into various mugs. Tony held it up to show Bucky. “Ohhhh, that is nice.”_

 

_Steve grinned, pleased and nervous. “I mean, it’s a necktie. Probably not the most unique gift you’ll get tonight.”_

 

_Tony snorted and rolled his eyes, taking the necktie out of the box and tossing it around his neck, looking down at the colors and running his palm on the silk. “All those people who brought me a gift probably got their assistants or personal buyers to go out and get something. Talk about impersonal.” He glanced up at Steve and smiled, brown eyes crinkled at the edges. “This gift, I know you probably went to every high brow store in the city and picked it out just for me. That deserves some special consideration and thanks.”_

 

_Bucky placed their coffee mugs on the counter and kissed Tony’s neck. “Oooooh looks sexy on you, babe.”_

 

_“Maybe I’ll try it on later, just for you,” Tony said, giving Bucky a wicked little grin. He winked at Steve. “But we can’t use it for bondage, it’s silk.”_

 

_Steve blushed and looked away as they giggled knowingly with each other._

 

He was glad that Tony liked it well enough; he hadn’t wanted to be the only one at the party to give Tony something, well, cheap. Not that Tony would ever make fun of him for it, but as Bucky’s best friend, Steve felt like he had to make an effort. Plus, the color caught Steve’s eye and he thought it would fit Tony well. A part of him warmed with the knowledge that Tony actually wore it.

 

“Oh, um, hey Tony. What brings you to The Met on a Tuesday morning?”

 

Tony tucked his hands into his pants pockets, turning his head to gaze at him. “I’ve loaned my Rothko collection to the museum; came to finalize the paperwork.”

 

Steve refused to be impressed, even though he was. “Oh. Well, that’s great, Tony.”

 

“You a big fan of Seurat’s?” Tony looked at Steve’s sketch and gave a quiet whistle. “Nice sketch.”

 

“I’m trying to move out of my comfort zone,” he said, taking the compliment. “I’ve not been able to capture the Impressionists properly; can’t seem to wrap my head around the technique or artistry, you know?”

 

Tony smiled at him. “Yeah, I get that. Look, if you’re not busy, can I show you something?”

 

“Sure, okay,” he said, closing his book and pulling the band over the cover. He reached down to pick up his backpack, tucking his book and drawing pencil inside, zipping it closed. He slung it over his shoulder and followed Tony out into the hall. “Where we going?”

 

“The curator’s a friend of mine. He gave me access to see some of the upcoming exhibitions,” Tony said, pulling out his phone and pressing a number. “Charlie, it’s Tony again. Hey, can we get into Gallery 964 now? Yeah, great! We’re on our way.” He ended the call and looked at Steve. “Charlie’s going to meet us there.”

 

“There” turned out to the special exhibition hall that was closed to the public. There was a sign posted by the entrance of the upcoming exhibit, _Seurat’s Circus Sideshow_ , scheduled to open after the new year.

 

“Charlie!”

 

An older man dressed in a tailored black suit and a cheerfully colorful bowtie approached them. He was tall and portly, with a thick head of silvery gray hair, and bright blue eyes on a cheerful face. He looked to be in his 70s, vibrant and energetic, and Steve immediately recognized the infamous Director of The Metropolitan Museum.

 

“Changed your mind about seeing the new exhibit I see,” Charlie said, smiling indulgently at Tony.

 

“Yeah, I saw a friend of mine in the Impressionists wing and thought we’d both take a sneak peek now since we were both here and available,” Tony said, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Let me make the introductions. Charlie here is Charles Rothschild, all-around big boss of The Met. Charlie, this is my good friend Steve Rogers. He’s doing a dual MS/MA in Conservation and Art History at NYU. You should hire him when he graduates in May.”

 

Steve was impressed that Tony remembered his dual degree. He closed his mouth and smiled at the older gentleman, trying not to blush under his amused gaze.

 

“Is he now?” Charlie said, sliding his eyes to Tony. “Well, we’ll have to see if there’s a place for Mr. Rogers in the future.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rothschild,” Steve said, holding out his hand. “And you don’t have to, you know, Tony’s just being nice.”

 

“Call me Charlie,” he said, shaking Steve’s hand firmly. “The pleasure’s mine. I’m always happy to meet Tony’s friends.”

 

“One of my favorite exhibits at The Met Breuer was the Diane Arbus collection,” he said, trying not to gush in front of them.

 

“That was Charlie’s jewel in the crown,” Tony said, puffing up in pleasure and wiggling his eyebrows at Charlie in some comical, meaningful manner.

 

“Lovely woman; a keen eye and a keen sense of the world,” Charlie said, nodding. “I knew her when I was much younger. She had this magical way about her. She would listen to you and make this wonderful personal connection, so that when she took your picture, she captured the true you, the genuine you. I miss her dearly.”

 

“Diane came and took our family portrait. I was maybe six or seven at the time. There’s one picture that she took of my mother that captured her just right.”

 

Charlie smiled, taking a deep breath. “Another lovely woman with a keen eye and a keen sense of the world. I believe we added her photograph to the collection showing, too.”

 

“Well, come on, time’s a wasting, let’s take a look at the Circus, shall we?” Tony said, putting his hand on Steve’s back and waving his other at the doors. “If you please, Charlie?”

 

“Of course,” he said, unlocking the door and holding it open for them.

 

“Thank you so much for letting us view the collection -- oh wow, this is…” Steve trailed off as he stepped into the exhibition room, stunned by the sheer beauty of the paintings on the walls.

 

Tony chuckled behind him. “I think it’s going to be a winner, Charlie.”

 

Steve only half-listened to Charlie talk about the collection, the meaning of why it was called Seurat’s Circus Sideshow, and the other artists’ works that hung in the exhibition room. He stood in front of the Seurat for a long moment, carefully looking at the colors and the images depicted. It was a captivating masterpiece, the colors densely packed up close, but when he took a step backwards, blending so seamlessly. He would never truly understand the genius of Seurat’s conte crayon style, and felt his heart stutter as his eyes took in every greedy color. He would definitely return when the exhibit opened; probably spent long hours just sitting in front of the painting.

 

“There are over 100 paintings and drawings in this collection, with Seurat at the centerpiece of the dialogue. We were lucky to add the Daumier and Fernand Pelez and the Picasso at the fin de siecle,” Charlie said softly behind him.

 

Steve walked slowly through the exhibit, taking a moment to read the small placards next to the art work. He was totally blown away by the Pelez’s epic Grimaces and Misery - The Saltimbanques for its lifesize frieze-like formation. It must have stretched about 20-feet across, a whole stage of images.

 

He felt breathless as he made his way around the exhibit rooms, to find Tony and Charlie sitting companionable on a bench, waiting patiently for him.

 

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” he said, approaching them.

 

“Nonsense,” Charlie said, chuckling. “I would be insulted if you didn’t want to stay in this room.”

 

Steve blushed and smiled. “The collection is amazing, Charlie. I’ve never seen anything so incredible.”

 

Tony and Charlie shared a smile and Tony clapped his hands, getting to his feet. “Come on, Steve, let’s go for a late lunch if you have the time.”

 

Still stunned by the beauty of the collection, he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

 

“Charlie, good to see you as always,” Tony said, shaking the older man’s hand.

 

Charlie smiled. “A pleasure, Tony.”

 

“Thank you for this,” Steve said, trying to gather his wits about him.

 

Charlie shook Steve’s hand warmly, patting him on his back. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in my museum when this exhibit opens.”

 

“Okay,” Steve said, swallowing. “I can’t wait.”

 

Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder and winked at Charlie. “You’ll have to add him to the VIP list for the grand opening party, Charlie.”

 

“Of course,” Charlie said, giving Tony a long, amused look that was part shrewd and part curious. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Steve. “Do call me when you graduate from your studies, Steve. We’ll have lunch and talk about your future with The Met.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve said, clutching the business card in his hand.

 

Steve was still reeling from the experience of the collection as Tony led him into the hallway, shepherding Steve to the main lobby.

 

“Wow,” Tony commented, teasingly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so turned on by seeing a bunch of paintings. If I knew that’s all it would take, I’d had invited you to see my private collection at home.”

 

Steve stopped walking as the words finally filtered into Steve’s brain. He glared at Tony. “You’re with Bucky!”

 

Tony blinked, surprised by Steve’s outburst. “Yes I am…”

 

“And...and you’re flirting! With me!”

 

They stared at each other for a long moment, the silence becoming awkward.

 

“I pretty much flirt with everyone,” Tony said, shrugging carelessly. “It’s my default setting. Bucky doesn’t care. He knows I come home to him.”

 

“That’s--” Steve cut himself off, frowning, not knowing what to say to that. He took a deep breath, the pleasure of seeing the collection turning into something that felt dirty. “Look, Stark--”

 

“We’re back to Stark again, huh?” Tony muttered, sighing deeply.

 

“Tony,” Steve said, meeting Tony’s eyes. “This was really good of you. I appreciate that you showed me the new exhibit. It was amazing and I’m grateful. I don’t want to fight with you in the middle of The Met.”

 

“Then let’s not fight,” he said, easily. “Let me take you to lunch. We can talk about your studies and what you liked best in the collection. Bucky would be disappointed if we couldn’t make a nice afternoon of it.”

 

Steve narrowed his eyes. “That’s low, Tony.”

 

But Tony Stark wasn’t a man to be denied his victory; he grinned cheerfully at Steve, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet.

 

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But it better not be at some fancy place.”

 

Tony cocked his head and smiled. “How would you feel about getting a burger?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Recreational drug use and sexual fantasies/daydreams.

**Steve & Bucky’s Apartment**

**Brooklyn**

 

It was almost eleven at night when Steve walked into his apartment. He could smell the cloying scent of pot and hear the softly playing jazz music. He was surprised and pleased that Bucky was staying in the apartment tonight. Steve would never say it to make Bucky feel guilty, but he missed his best friend. He could admit that Bucky and Tony were good about including Steve, inviting him to lunch or dinner or VIP events, hanging out at Tony’s penthouse in Stark Tower, with Bucky always making sure to spend “best friend only” weekends with Steve at their apartment or hanging out in Brooklyn. 

 

But it wasn’t the same as coming home and knowing that Bucky would be there. 

 

“Buck, I’m home.” 

 

He dropped his bag on the floor by the hall table to see Bucky sitting on the edge of the window sill, a carefully rolled joint between his fingers. Bucky smiled languidly and got to his feet, loose and easy, and wrapped his arms around Steve for a long, warm hug. 

 

“Steve, you’re home,” Bucky said, artlessly, snuggling in against Steve’s chest. 

 

“I just said that, dork.” 

 

“Hmmm...you smell good.” 

 

“I smell like coffee and sweat.” 

 

Bucky giggled. “It’s my favorite scent. I think it’s a Tony Stark kink.” 

 

Steve chuckled, his left arm wrapped behind Bucky’s shoulders to hold him close, as he reached down with his free hand to take the joint from him, and taking a nice, long inhale of the spicy herbal mixture. 

 

“Was going to wait for you, but I’m not patient,” Bucky said, grinning up at Steve and swaying gently against him. He tightened his arms around Steve’s waist and hummed delightedly. 

 

Steve enjoyed it when Bucky was like this, cozy and affectionate, clinging to Steve with carefree abandon. He rocked them to the slow beat of the music and took another long hit. Before his late growth spurt, his health hadn’t allowed him to indulge in recreational drugs. He’d never survive more than the occasional pot-smoking; and he and Bucky stayed away from the hard drugs. They couldn’t always afford it and it became more of a special treat when they could. Both of them enjoyed it for a variety of different reasons. For Bucky, it took him out of his head and gave him a chance to just relax; for Steve, it gave him a creative outlet where he could sit in front of his art canvas and paint for hours and hours without editing his work. 

 

Later, when he was sober, he’d look at the art he produced while high, and tried to decipher why he was always drawn to the deep blues and blacks and purples, the colors blending to a center point. It looked like looking into a deep ocean where no light penetrated. He was unusually drawn to the same colors, over and over again, and Steve would stare at his growing collection of blue-black-purple-white paintings and wonder what in his subconscious knew that he couldn’t see with his sober mind. 

 

“I love it when we dance like this,” Bucky murmured, sliding his palms up and down Steve’s back. “You feels so good, Stevie.” 

 

Steve grinned. “Just how much have you had?” 

 

“I saved plenty for you for later, I promise.” 

 

“All right,” he said, feeling the effects of it shimmering through him now. He closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath, letting the familiar warmth of Bucky’s body and the slow pleasure of his high lure him to a mind space where he was free from his burdens. Steve took the last draw from the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs and feeling Bucky’s arms tighten comfortingly around him. He’d missed this so much; missed Bucky’s physical presence in his daily life. 

 

He leaned down to the coffee table ashtray to ground out the end, dropping it next to the other snubbed out joints. 

 

“Shotgun,” Bucky said, curling his hand behind Steve’s neck and opening his mouth against Steve’s lips as he exhaled the smoke into Bucky’s mouth. 

 

Bucky exhaled the smoke from his nose as he pressed his lips against Steve’s mouth, teasing along the edge of Steve’s top lip. Steve sank into the warm kiss, looking into Bucky’s glazed blue eyes, a soft expression on his face. He leaned down and kissed him again, just friendly, affectionate kisses, the kind that they always shared when they got high together. 

 

“Stevie,” Bucky murmured, his voice low and full of longing. “Still love you so much, punk.” 

 

“Love you too, Buck.” 

 

“So much, so much Stevie, so much,” he said, again and again, sliding his cheek against Steve’s cheek, warm lips pressing against Steve’s neck. “Should let us love you. We’d make you so happy if you’d let us.” 

 

“Hmm…” Steve murmured, chuckling softly as he moved them to the couch, settling Bucky gently on the cushions. “You’re so gone.” 

 

Bucky grinned up at him. “Gone for you.” 

 

Steve giggled. “That was terrible.” 

 

“Put the music back on,” he said, running his hand up and down the back of Steve’s leg. “Are you going to paint?” 

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, looking down at him and feeling like everything in the world was right. “Just for a little bit, okay?” 

 

“Come snuggle with me later,” Bucky murmured, blinking slowly up at him, a small smile on his plush lips. 

 

Steve nodded, leaning down to kiss his forehead, and walked to the corner of the living room to his easel, taking the current project down and setting it gently against the wall. He replaced it with a new, fresh canvas, and stared at the clean, white surface, already visualizing the deep blues, blacks, and purples that he’d add to the pristine blankness. 

 

*** 

 

Steve woke up slowly to the sounds of Brooklyn hustle and bustle, wrapped in a cocoon in his favorite quilts and sheets, his eyes flurry and mouth tasting fuzzy. He smacked his lips and stared at his alarm clock. It was already ten in the morning and he didn’t have class until two and the rest of the night to study at the library. 

 

He could afford to be decadent and luxuriate in his warm bed, sinking against the pillow under his face. His morning wood was pressed against his belly and the mattress, and he wiggled his hips to get a little friction going. 

 

Bucky would’ve already left at eight to get to his morning class, giving Steve complete privacy to jerk off as slowly as he wanted. Most mornings, with his libido in high gear, Steve would take care of it in the shower. But there were mornings like this, when he could tease himself, get lost in a fantasy or two. Even now, his best fantasies were of the things that he and Bucky used to do when they were dating. Bucky liked being aggressive, holding Steve down and not letting him hide. Steve loved it, too, but he loved it more when Bucky was gentle and took his time, sliding his fingers along Steve’s skin, touching him with long, slow strokes. 

 

Steve liked it best when Bucky would lay over him, with Steve’s legs curled over Bucky’s thighs, feet tucked between Bucky’s knees, and Bucky would fuck him slowly as Steve rubbed his palms over Bucky’s ass, tracing patterns on his soft skin. They would just hold each other, exchanging slow, deep kisses, not in any hurry to come yet. He was always surprised by Bucky’s stamina, staying hard and staying in control, but giving them both that kind of intimacy. 

 

It was what Steve craved more than anything else. He didn’t need kinky sex or adventurous sex; he wasn’t particularly vanilla and he and Bucky had tried a lot of things together. He needed the intimate connection to truly get off. Of course Steve had other lovers after Bucky, but he wasn’t drawn to them like he was to Bucky. A part of him thought that being hung up on his best friend was killing any potential relationship Steve could have, but Steve didn’t want anyone with the same ferocity and he refused to feel bad about it. 

 

Maybe a part of him thought that Bucky would return to him; that when Bucky had his fill of exploring, he’d come back to Steve. But it seemed like he and Tony were going to be together for awhile now, maybe become something permanent in the future. He wanted Bucky to be happy and he promised himself, when Bucky and Tony finally made their relationship public, that he’d never do anything to get in the way of Bucky’s happiness. 

 

**God** , Steve could just imagine how hot it was between Bucky and Tony. The dirty, filthy things that Tony would do to Bucky. When he thought Bucky was a sex worker, did he make Bucky perform all kinds of sexy, nasty things? 

 

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his cock harder against the bed, the head of his cock pushing out past the waistband of his boxers. 

 

_ Would Tony look at Bucky with dark, indolent eyes, and demand Bucky to get on his knees and suck his cock? Take the position of dominance and mastery, pushing his cock down Bucky’s throat and chasing after his own pleasure, greedy and rough?  _

 

_ Would Tony fist Bucky’s hair and pull his head back while he fucked him with careless abandon, forcing Bucky to cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure?  _

 

Steve shivered, hands fisting the sheets as he undulated against the bed, spreading the pre-come wetness into the sheets, his cock painfully hard, balls tight and throbbing with the need to come. 

 

He could admit that the idea of Tony, sexually, was intimidating. Bucky didn’t kiss and tell, but Steve had read about Tony’s reputation as a playboy, his former lovers unshy about reporting to the tabloids or writing tell-all books, and just the general speculation of what Tony Stark might be like in bed. 

 

Steve had seen the bruises on Bucky’s wrists and ankles; stared at them while Bucky napped on the living room couch, dark rings circling his tanned flesh. 

 

_ “Maybe I’ll try it on later, just for you,” Tony said, giving Bucky a wicked little grin. He winked at Steve. “But we can’t use it for bondage, it’s silk.”  _

 

And would Tony...would Tony do that to Steve? Tie him down and make him beg for it? Use the silk necktie Steve gave him for his birthday to tie his hands to the bed and fuck him hard and fast, dark eyes staring at him, ruthless with his pleasure. 

 

“Shit,” Steve gasped, pulling his right hand free and spitting in it, and shoving it back into the covers to wrap around the head of his cock. He muffled his groan into the pillow, biting the firm cushion as he thrust his hips, using his hand roughly to get off. 

 

_ “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Steve?” Tony would say, hand around his neck, squeezing firmly. “Beg me to come.”  _

 

_ Please! Please, Tony, please let me come! _

 

_ “You’re so fucking sweet now, aren’t you, Rogers? Begging for my cock like a whore. My little whore now, aren’t you, you fucking slut.”  _

 

_ Steve shut his eyes, shaking his head. He didn’t like to be called names.   _

 

_ Tony would groan, hands holding Steve down, fucking into him with brutal efficiency, slamming his hips into Steve, leaving behind dark bruises that Steve would be able to feel for days. And he’d smirk down at Steve as he came, not letting Steve have his pleasure. Not yet.  _

 

_ “My turn.”  _

 

_ Please, Bucky. Please, please! Fuck me, please!  _

 

_ Bucky would be there, too, blue eyes gleaming with lust, face flushed with need. He’d lick his lips as he looked Steve over, his hand curled around his cock, getting it hard and ready for his turn.  _

 

Steve yelled into his pillow, coming in a long, hard wave of stunned pleasure, his hand caught underneath him, helpless as his hips pressed his cock against his palm, unable to escape the intensity of it, the fantasy of having Tony and Bucky in his bed. 

 

“Oh God,” he moaned, breathlessly, his whole body trembling. “Oh God...oh God...oh God…” 

 

He hadn’t meant to do that; hadn’t meant to think about Tony like that. He hadn’t meant to betray Bucky’s trust--

 

“That sounded like a first class orgasm, Stevie!” Bucky called from the hallway, his voice amused. “Jesus, what the hell are you doing to yourself in there?” 

 

Steve raised his head to stare at the door in horror. 

 

Was Bucky home the whole time? Did Bucky hear everything? What the hell did Steve say? Did he say anybody’s name? 

 

“Shut up, Buck! Mind your own business!” Steve called back, trying for annoyed amusement. 

 

Bucky laughed, the sound fading as he walked away. “Damn, son, makes a man jealous to hear his ex get off like he’s just been fucked by the best lover he’s ever had! I don’t think I’ve ever made you sound like that!” 

 

Steve groaned, falling back in bed, dragging the covers over his head. “Shit.” 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Did I say that this was going to be slow burn between Tony and Steve? Yeah, it's gonna be a slow burn! So not a whole lot of action in this chapter, but maybe you'll enjoy it anyway, seeing Steve's resolve crumbling and Tony's active interest in Steve evolving. Have fun! 
> 
> Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!

**New York Public Library**

**Fifth Avenue at 42nd Street, Manhattan**

 

Steve loved the city; as a New Yorker, he was greatly fond of all five boroughs, but he was especially enamored of and proud of his Brooklyn. He loved their apartment in the DUMBO neighborhood, well worth the expensive rent that he and Bucky paid. He had started looking for a smaller studio apartment for when Bucky would finally move out of their place at the end of their lease. Steve decided that he didn’t want a roommate, preferring to live alone, and going to a smaller apartment in the DUMBO neighborhood would be a sacrifice he was willing to make.

 

He hadn’t told Bucky about his plans yet; he didn’t want Bucky to feel guilty and hand him another $15,000 check. It wasn’t the money, it was the principle of the thing. Steve had enough pride to not take more of Bucky’s money. Besides, they were going to graduate soon and Steve would find a full-time job. He had scrimped and saved so that his portfolio was professional quality; and he was building his work history with internships throughout the art community.

 

Not to mention the fact that he would definitely call and ask to meet Charlie Rothschild; Tony’s introduction to the Director of The Met was something that Steve was going to take advantage of, pride or not. Steve would love to work at The Met, who was he kidding?

 

He was sitting on the front steps of the New York Public Library, facing Fifth Avenue, and drawing in his journal. Steve loved people-watching and urban sketching. He loved the pace of New Yorkers; and was generally amused by the antics of tourists, stopping to take a picture of everything around them. To keep himself from becoming jaded, Steve often sat himself down and spent a couple of hours making rough sketches, relearning how to appreciate the different neighborhoods of his city. Later, back at home at his drafting table, he’d take a fresh sheet of watercolor paper and ink out the scenes and wash them with the colors of New York.

 

A shadow fell over him, a pair of expensive black leather loafers stepping up towards him. Steve looked up to see Tony Stark grinning at him.

 

“Hi, handsome,” Tony said, pulling down his sunglasses to look at Steve over the top rim.

 

He was dressed in a light gray pinstripe suit, a pale blue dress shirt and matching necktie, impeccably groomed and wearing purple-lens sunglasses. Steve was always a little surprised to see how well Tony blended in with the city, but also stood out as an individual. He did have a particular style and his well-trimmed beard and mustache made him a recognizable face, but Steve was always immediately drawn to Tony in a crowd, his eyes constantly seeking Tony out. There was no doubt that Tony Stark was the epicenter of everything; no matter where he stood, he would draw people to him, like moths to a flame.

 

If anyone epitomized the old money wealth of Fifth Avenue, it certainly was Tony Stark.

 

“Hey, Tony,” he said, smiling up at him.

 

“I got some food at the food truck. Hungry?” Tony said, holding up a brown paper bag, the bottom nearly translucent from the grease. “Bucky said that this is your favorite.”

 

Steve gasped in surprise and pleasure. “Did you really bring me a fully loaded sauerkraut and sriracha footlong hotdog?”

 

“Two of them - though if you share, I’d be eternally grateful.”

 

Steve closed his journal and moved it to his left, by his backpack, gesturing for Tony to sit down. “Pull up a step, Tony. This is going to a feast for your senses.”

 

Tony looked around, a few people staring at him in recognition. A bevy of cameras and smartphones were held up, trained on Tony Stark.

 

“You sure you wouldn’t want to go somewhere a little more private?”

 

Steve gave him a long look. “A true New Yorker eats a sauerkraut footlong in public, Tony.”

 

“God help me,” Tony said, groaning amusedly. “If pictures of me dribbling sauerkraut on my pants show up on the tabloids, Pepper is going to have my head.”

 

“Oh,” he said, making a face. “Sorry, I forgot that...you know...people take your picture. Because of who you are.”

 

Tony sat down, putting the bag between them, pulling out two cans of soda from his jacket pockets, handing one over to Steve.

 

“Price of being a public figure,” he said, casually. “It’s not like I know how to live my life in a cave.”

 

“We can go somewhere else,” he offered, feeling like an insensitive jerk. “I wouldn’t want you to...I mean, you have a right to privacy, Tony.”

 

Tony laughed, cracking open his soda and looking out at the busy city in front of them. “Don’t worry about it, Steve. Believe me when I say that the paparazzi have caught me doing worse things than enjoying a hotdog on the steps of the prestigious New York Public Library while hanging out with a super gorgeous and mysterious friend.”

 

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, unrolling the top of the brown bag. “Sure, whatever you say.”

 

“Seriously, having our picture on _Page Six_ might actually do some good for Stark Industries stock. Believe it or not, our stock takes a hit whenever the public thinks I’m settling down; like I couldn’t possibly be focused on business if I’m actually happy in a relationship with one person,” he said, leaning over and peering inside the bag with Steve. “Maybe they’ll start a whole new rumor that I’m cheating on Bucky with a hot stranger and SI stocks will go up ten points.”

 

Steve made a disgruntled noise and slid his eyes to Tony. “If any of those journalists would just do a basic Google search, they’d know that I was Bucky’s best friend and they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.”

 

Tony gave him a look, a half smile curving his lips. “You really are the last of the truly decent men in America, aren’t you?”

 

“What? Come on.” He said, making a face and pulling the foiled wrapped hotdog out of the bag and holding it out carefully to Tony. He watched as Tony pulled off his sunglasses, hooking one end of the ear in the chest pocket of his suit. Tony didn’t reach for it right away so Steve gave him a look and shook the hotdog with his hand. With a sigh, Tony accepted it and Steve smiled.

 

“Thanks,” he said, with a wry smile on his face. “You know I don’t like being handed things.”

 

“Did you want me to hold the hotdog for you while you ate it?” Steve said, sassily.

 

Tony barked out a laugh, holding the foiled wrapped hotdog back to Steve. “Actually, I would.”

 

Steve tried very hard not to imagine what it would be like to hold something out for Tony while he put it in his mouth, brown eyes looking up at Steve.

 

“I don’t understand your aversion to being handed things.”

 

“Plausible deniability,” Tony said, chuckling as he unwrapped one end of the foil. “If I don’t accept it, then I never got it.”

 

Steve frowned, wondering what kind of situations Tony found himself in to make that a rule of thumb. “It’s just a hotdog. A hotdog that **you** bought.”

 

“I didn’t say that the application was logical. Mostly, I really just don’t like holding anything.”

 

Steve laughed and shook his head. Well, if anything, Tony Stark was a unique, quirky individual.

 

 _Bless his heart,_ Steve’s ma would’ve said, clucking her tongue with a fond smile on her face. Mrs. Sarah Rogers would’ve liked Tony Stark, Steve decided. She wouldn’t have let him get away with anything. And from the way Tony adored Bucky’s ma, there was probably a good chance that Tony would’ve liked Steve’s ma just as well, too.   

 

“Did you get napkins? I don’t want you to ruin your suit--hold on, I have napkins in my bag.”  

 

Steve licked some stray sauce off his thumb and shoved his hand into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a handful of napkins, handing some of them to Tony.

 

“I’m always hoarding napkins from Starbucks. You never know when you’re going to need some when you’re doing art outdoors,” he said, grinning at Tony.

 

“Thanks,” Tony murmured, unfolding one end of the foil and taking a large bite. “ _Mmmm_ …”

 

“Just a word of advice - take small bites until you get used to the heat.”

 

Steve watched as Tony chewed; he reached into the bag to pull out the other foil wrapped footlong, his mouth already watering in anticipation.

 

“ _Mmmmmm_...my god, this is fantastic,” Tony mumbled with his lips, his mouth full.

 

“Wait for it,” Steve said, taking a small bite of his hotdog, making an obscene noise in his throat at how absolutely delicious it was.

 

“It’s like…” Tony chewed quickly, licking his lips. “I can’t even describe the taste -- sour and spicy at the same time, with a bit of sweetness from the onions? How is this even possible? That food truck guy deserves a Michelin star!”

 

“He probably already has one,” Steve said, chewing quickly and taking another bite. “Careful, the heat’s going to--”

 

“My eyes are watering!”

 

Steve covered his mouth with his hand, his own eyes watering from the after kick of the spice, muffling the noise of his laughter.

 

“Oh shit,” Tony said, panting slightly as he stared at Steve. He couldn’t stop smiling at the expression on Tony’s face, crossed between delight and physical pain. “Jesus, this is so awesome, Steve! My tongue is on fire!”

 

He watched as Tony drank down nearly all of his soda in three swallows.

 

“Fuck!”

 

“Language!” Steve hissed, looking around at the young children nearby.

 

Tony laughed, wiping his eyes with a clean napkin. “I need to hire that food truck guy. Personal chef. Anything he wants. I’ll buy him his first restaurant. All I need is for him to make this for me every day for the rest of my life.”

 

“You’ll develop an ulcer.”

 

“Worth it.”

 

Steve couldn’t help himself; he laughed and laughed, nearly dropping his footlong on the step, watching as Tony’s face flushed red from the heat of the sriracha. He took a sip of his soda and generously handed it to Tony.

 

“Here, have mine.”

 

“Oh God, thank you!” Tony said, taking the soda can and drinking it down. He let out a loud sigh, sitting back on the step, breathing through his nose. “That’s good stuff.”

 

They finished their hotdogs in companionable silence, both of them avid people-watchers. Tony kept Steve laughing with his witty and observant comments of the citizens of New York. Steve had gotten them two bottled waters from a nearby vendor and they were both enjoying the unusually warm autumn afternoon sunlight shining down on them.

 

“How do you always know how to find me?”

 

“Bucky,” Tony said, smiling at him. He leaned back on one elbow, sprawled casually on the step, and gazed out at the busy street.

 

“I guess I’m predictable, huh?”

 

Tony turned his head and looked over at him. “There is nothing predictable about you.”

 

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, Bucky knows me pretty well.”

 

“Best friends are like that. No matter where Rhodey is in the world, he always seems to know what I’m up to,” Tony said, softly. “But then again, it’s not that hard to track my whereabouts. Between the press and Pepper, my public location is easy to trace.”

 

“Does it bother you? Living such a public life?”

 

Tony shrugged. “I don’t have anything else to compare. You could say that it’s all I know.”

 

Steve mulled that over; to be born in the spotlight and to have every moment of it in the public eye, every success and every humiliation available to the masses as entertainment, to never fully trust anyone or let down your guard. No, Steve didn’t envy that at all.

 

“Your relationship with Bucky isn’t public.”

 

_“Tony thinks that we should head off the tabloids and make a public statement about our relationship,” Bucky said, leaning against Steve’s arm, tucking both of his feet under the couch cushions. “What do you think?”_

 

_Steve considered it; wondering what everyone would say about Bucky, how they would want to tear him down. “He’s kind of famous, Buck. I don’t know how you could avoid being in public with him, unless you try to keep it secret or lie about it. Stark seems like the kind of man that if he really didn’t want something known, he’d keep it off everyone’s radar.”_

 

_“Do you think that we should make an announcement though? Seems kind of, I don’t know, so full of it to make an announcement, like I’m important or something.”_

 

_“Maybe if you make the announcement, you can control what people say about you.”_

 

_Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes. “People are going to say whatever they want about me anyway. This whole fame thing is weird, Stevie. I don’t know how Tony does it all the time.”_

 

_“And you are important,” he said, frowning. “The people who know you and love you, they know who you are. The hell with the rest of them, Bucky, who cares what anyone thinks, you and Tony are good together.”_

 

_Bucky turned his head and looked up at him. “You get it now? Me and Tony.”_

 

_“Yeah,” Steve told him, taking a deep breath. “I get it now.”_

 

Tony grinned, a small, private smile on his lips, and let out a soft, pleased sigh. “There are relationships that I will protect with the full force of my name, my money, and a shit ton of lawyers.”

 

Steve chuckled, shaking his head at Tony’s boldness.

 

“There are only a handful of people that I’ll do everything in my power to protect. Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy. Bucky, I’ll protect, for as long as he’ll want me in his life.”

 

He smiled, thinking of Tony’s two best friends, James Rhodes and Pepper Potts, and how they seemed to be the only people in Tony’s life - before Bucky came along, that is - to truly see and like Tony, faults and all. Happy Hogan was Tony’s driver and bodyguard, a close friend who had probably seen it all, but understood discretion and protected Tony’s privacy. And Steve had no doubt that even if Tony and Bucky ever broke up, Tony wouldn’t let anyone ever put Bucky in a bad light.

 

“And you.”

 

He blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

 

“You’re Bucky’s best friend, and by extension, important to me, too.”

 

Steve smiled shyly, ducking his head to hide how that made him feel, and ran his hand over his head. “Oh. Um, thanks, Tony, but no one’s ever going to be interested in me. I’m just a guy from Brooklyn.”

 

“You’d be surprised.”

 

He wasn’t sure what to make of that; he wanted to believe what Tony said, but he knew that Tony only felt that way because Steve was Bucky’s best friend. If anything, Tony had been far more generous to him than Steve had with Tony.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What do you think I mean?”

 

He wanted to say, _that I wish it means **you’re** interested in me._

 

But why would Tony Stark be interested in Steve, when he already had Bucky, who was full of life and fire and one of the best men anyone could know? Even if he was right, and Tony was interested, Steve would never be so disloyal to cheat with Bucky’s boyfriend; and if he was wrong, Steve would never give Tony that kind of emotional ammunition to use against him. Either way, Steve was completely, utterly screwed.

 

Steve shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t know, Tony.”

 

Tony cocked his head and gave Steve a thoughtful and considering look. His gaze was a little longer than was socially acceptable; dark brown eyes not missing a single thing. Steve wondered how Bucky could stand it, having Tony’s total attention like that. It felt like Tony could read him and figure out his deepest, darkest secrets. Steve felt his face flush slightly and he looked away first, running a hand over his head.

 

“So Bucky said that this was one of your favorite haunts,” Tony said, moving them easily back to safer topics.

 

“Yeah, I love the library. Between classes and working, I don’t get to be outside as much as I want, so I try to spend as much time out in different neighborhoods,” he said, settling back on his elbows and kicking his legs out straight, mirroring Tony’s body. “I get a lot of inspiration, being out and seeing things, meeting people.”

 

“Is that what you’re passionate about? I mean, I get that you love art, who doesn’t love art, but what made you want to work in the arts?”

 

Steve licked his lips, still stinging just a little from the sriracha, and took a deep breath. “I guess...I love that creative process, you know, looking at a blank canvas and making something come to life on it with nothing more than your own imagination. When I was a kid, I was always pretty sick, had to stay home a lot. Bucky brought me my homework every day for almost a whole year so that I wouldn’t fall behind. I couldn’t go outside, I couldn’t play sports, so I taught myself how to draw and paint. My ma encouraged me to keep at it. She’d buy me art supplies, nothing expensive, we couldn’t afford it; but it was more than enough for me to start to really love it.”

 

“I always wanted to ‘dabble’ in the arts,” Tony said, his voice soft and full of longing, hands rising in the air to make air quotes. “My mother loved the arts. She was a lifelong patron to artists and the art community. She grew up on the Upper East Side, but I think she longed for a more bohemian lifestyle.”

 

“You’re always inventing amazing things,” he said, smiling at him. “I think you can call yourself an artist.”

 

Tony laughed, throaty and warm. “My mother secretly encouraged my interest in art, but we both knew that Howard wouldn’t allow it. Dad believed that art was a financial investment, something to add to his collection, for the mere prestige of ownership. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to pursue art, so I did the next best thing: I added to my mother’s art collection with passion.” Tony made a face, a flash of a smile, come and gone. “I’ve never told anyone that. Not even Pepper, and she knows every one of my secrets.”

 

 _Not even Bucky_ , it was implied.  

 

“I’m really looking forward to seeing your Rothko collection at The Met,” he said, kindly. Steve knew, instinctively, that Tony didn’t want his pity.

 

He felt honored to know something so intimate and vulnerable about Tony. If anyone would’ve asked him a year ago if there was anything that he and Tony Stark had in common, Steve would’ve responded with a harsh laugh and a definite no. But now, learning more about Tony, it seemed that they had more in common than Steve first believed. It made him feel like a first class jerk to not have given Tony the benefit of the doubt; too caught up in his own prejudice against Tony’s public facade.

 

“Bucky tells me that you’re talented,” Tony said, looking at him. “Why haven’t you ever tried to show your work?”

 

Steve snorted and chuckled. “Bucky is a loyal friend. I don’t think my work is worth the hassle of trying to get a showing outside of school. I’ve had to show some pieces as part of my coursework, but nothing that would actually make a difference in the art world.”

 

“Why don’t I believe that?” Tony said, grinning slightly. “How about we make a deal? I’ll show you my private collection - I own some pieces that have never been seen in public - if you’ll show me some of your art.”

 

Steve gaped at him. “Are you kidding?” He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Which pieces?”

 

Tony laughed, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. “Come on, Steve, make the deal first and I’ll let you see firsthand, up close and personal, the Stark collection.”

 

He held out his hand for Steve, looking at him with challenge and amusement.

 

“Fine,” Steve groused, taking Tony’s hand and allowing the other man to pull him to his feet. “Are we going back to the Tower?”

 

“Nope,” Tony said, pulling out his phone from inside his jacket pocket, texting quickly. “Happy’s bringing the car around. I’m taking you to the Mansion.”

 

“The Mansion?” He said, standing on the step and staring at Tony. “Stark Mansion!”

 

Even Bucky hadn’t been inside Stark Mansion. It was public knowledge that after the death of Tony’s parents, he never went back to one of the most famous homes in the city. It was rumored to still be fully staffed with the people who remained loyal and discreet to the Stark family over the decades, but Tony hadn’t lived in the house since he was 21 years old.

 

Steve watched as Tony started down the steps as a black limousine pulled up to the curb. He recognized Happy as he stepped out of the driver’s side, opening the door to the back and smiling patiently for them.

 

“Come on, Steve!” Tony called, turning to look at Steve at the door. He ducked into the back of the limo, beckoning Steve with his hand.

 

Steve gathered up his bag, tucking the bottled water inside. He hurried down the steps, zipping up his bag, butterflies in his stomach in anticipation.

 

“Hi Happy, it’s good to see you again,” he said, politely.

 

Happy nodded in greeting. “Good to see you, too, Steve. Hop on in.”

 

“Okay, thanks.”

 

“Happy, take us to the Mansion, please,” Tony called, leaning across Steve’s lap to peer up at Happy.

 

Happy blinked and opened his mouth, but quickly caught himself and returned to his professional demeanor. “You got it, boss.”

 

He closed the door, enclosing Steve and Tony in the dim, protected space of the limo. Steve sat back in the plush leather seat and ran his hand along the cool, smooth leather.

 

“Let me just check in with Pepper,” Tony said, pulling out his phone and calling her.

 

Steve licked his lips and looked around the interior of the limousine. Was this the same limo that Bucky had gotten to his knees for Tony? Did Tony lean back on this seat and ask for Bucky’s mouth? How many times had they used the back of this limo to have sex? He could imagine Bucky kneeling on the thick carpeted floor of the limo, naked and slick with sweat, fingers digging into the carpet as Tony fucked him.

 

He could feel the blood rushing in his ears and he swallowed thickly, licking his lips again.

 

“You’re all flushed,” Tony commented, looking at him curiously. “Still feeling the after effects of the hotdog?”

 

Steve ran his hand over his head, feeling how hot his ears were. He let out a laugh that sounded false to his ears. “Yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Want me to make you a drink?”

 

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, chuckling awkwardly, still not able to meet Tony’s eyes.

 

He stared out the window at the city outside, not able to make eye contact with Tony. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising; could feel the heat of Tony’s gaze on him. There was no doubt that Steve’s neck was probably flushed red as well and he ducked down a little, hunching his shoulders. He held his backpack a little tighter, keeping it pressed against his lap to hide his hard on and praying that Tony hadn’t noticed anything.

 

**STARK MANSION**

**1 East 70th Street, Fifth Avenue**

 

The house took up the whole city block between 70th and 71st Street on Fifth Avenue. Happy pulled the limo to the black wrought iron gates surrounding the property and punched in the code, opening the gates to the driveway on 70th. Tony chuckled as he hit the window down button, flashing the Victory sign to the group of tourists standing on the sidewalk, taking pictures of the house.

 

Steve stepped out of the limousine and stood in place, looking up at the immense home. There was the front garden with three well maintained magnolia trees. The front of the house faced Central Park and was a recognized historical landmark. It looked to have about three floors and was the epitome of the Beaux-Arts style of architecture that was famous in the early 1900s. Steve didn’t know the full history of the house, but he knew that the white-gray stone was Indiana limestone and marble.

 

“Well, I guess the place is still standing,” Tony said from behind him. “Granddad built it to last, but Howard wanted a legacy; to leave his footprint in the middle of the Upper East Side.”

 

“What did you want?”

 

Tony gave him a small smile. “A home.”

 

Steve swallowed, fighting the urge to pull Tony in for a long hug. “Tony--”

 

“Come on, I’ll give you the five cent tour and show you the in comparable Maria Stark Collection,” Tony said, patting Steve on the back and heading for the front doors.

 

Everywhere Steve looked, his breath caught at the sheer beauty of the immense home: The indoor garden and flowing water fountain with the domed skylight, the Olympic sized pool in the basement, the marble statues and famous artwork, the grand billiards room, and the luxurious furnishings. It reminded him of a museum - beautiful, cold, and impersonal; he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Tony to grow up in a palace like this. How it must’ve skewed his perception of the world, surrounded in opulence and grandeur, and living in the shadow of his father and the expectations the world put on his small, child shoulders.

 

Steve didn’t think Tony was a snob and he certainly didn’t look down on anyone. From what Steve could gleam, Tony wasn’t interested in money or fame or power. He enjoyed the perks of being a billionaire and a celebrity, there was no doubt of that, but Tony was drawn to helping people with his technological breakthroughs, fighting to keep costs down to make his products accessible.

 

Beyond the tabloids and the playboy reputation, Tony was a man who wanted to do good things. Steve realized that Tony Stark wanted to leave a legacy, too, but it wasn’t a house that took up a city block or a tower with his name at the top; Tony Stark wanted to leave a legacy of having done something good for the world. Why did it take Steve so long to understand that about him when Bucky seemed to know from the very beginning, when Tony thought Bucky was nothing more than a sex worker?

 

_“I can’t believe you’re going to date him,” Steve said, frowning deeply. “Do you know what kind of man he is? His nickname is the Merchant of Death. He’s just a rich mook in a suit. Take that away and then what? He can’t love you, not the way that you need--”_

 

_“He’s a **good** man,” Bucky said, kicking Steve’s ankle. “Don’t get caught up on what people say about him. They don’t know shit about him.” _

 

_“What makes you think you know him any better, just because you’re sleeping with him?”_

 

_Bucky glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me right now, Stevie?” He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “Yeah, right, it’s because I’m **only** sleeping with him. Because after he fucks me into exhaustion, we talk about who we are and what we want. Sometimes, we even have conversations outside of the bedroom. You don’t even know him but you’re so ready to judge him, just like all those mooks who only see what **Tony** wants them to see.”   _

 

Steve couldn’t forgive himself for just how wrong he was about Tony Stark. The more he got to know Tony, the more he admired the man. The more he was _attracted_ to Tony. His attempts at keeping Tony at arm’s length or bickering with Tony weren’t working anymore; all it did was annoy Bucky and Steve didn’t want to test Bucky’s loyalties to either of them. Even he knew that that wasn’t fair and it would be a dick move on Steve’s part. But it wasn’t like Steve could actually tell Bucky the truth.

 

They ended the tour in Maria Stark’s private sitting room on the second floor. It was decorated with velvets and silks, muted pinks and deep reds and dark woods. It was a practical and functional room, but feminine and with an eye for beauty and plush comfort. No matter where Steve stood, every view within the circular room was symmetrical and pleasing to the eyes and to his senses.

 

“These are the Diane Arbus photographs,” Tony said, gesturing to the photos on the north wall. “Mom and Diane were good friends. While other ladies of the Upper East Side were brunching at the Waldorf, I’m pretty sure the two of them were in Hell’s Kitchen or the Lower East Side, taking pictures of the more interesting citizens of the city.”

 

Steve smiled, feeling quite fond of Tony’s mother, looking at the stunning black and white photographs perfectly matted and framed on the walls. He looked at the two light-haired women in the pictures, Maria and Diane could’ve been sisters - _soul sisters_ \- facing each other and laughing, something coy and secretive in their gazes. Maria Stark was always photographed in public photos with her blonde hair pinned up, elegant and untouchable; but in these pictures, her hair was down and swirling around her, eyes bright with mirth and delight, freedom and wildness.

 

“She was beautiful,” he murmured, looking over at Tony.

 

“That she was, and so much more,” Tony said, sliding his hand along the velvet armchair. “Not that Howard or our society would ever allow her to be everything that she wanted to be.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, helplessly.

 

Tony glanced at him. “Why are you apologizing?”

 

He shrugged, making a pained face. “Just...sorry over her situation, I guess.” He took a deep breath. “And maybe for yours, too. It sounded like your father was…”

 

“A dick?” Tony said, chuckling softly. “He was that...and so much more.”

 

“Thank you for bringing me here and showing me your house, Tony,” he said, changing the subject. “The paintings were amazing and...being able to come inside here, to your mother’s room...I’m really honored that you’d trust me to be here.”

 

Tony grinned at him. “A deal’s a deal, Steve. I showed you mine, it’s time for you to show me yours.”

 

Steve laughed, the tension breaking between them, and he rolled his eyes. “Never let anyone say that I never held up my end of a bargain.”

 

**Steve and Bucky’s Apartment**

**Brooklyn**

 

For once, Steve was glad that his obsessive cleaning was paid off in spades as he led Tony into his apartment. He dropped his backpack on the floor and put his keys in the dish on the hallway table. Tony walked inside, looking around at everything, dark eyes taking it all in.

 

“Can I get you a drink? We don’t have a lot. Beer?”

 

Tony grinned, shaking his head. “No thanks, I’m good for now.”

 

“I can’t believe that we’ve never had you over,” Steve said, apologetically. “Let me text Bucky to let you know you’re here. We can order in dinner and hang out if you have time?”

 

He felt like such a rube, offering a billionaire a chance to sit in his little apartment for cheap beer and greasy take-out.

 

“Actually, that sounds great. Happy can park the limo somewhere and join us,” Tony said, pleased.

 

Steve nodded. “Absolutely. Hang on for a minute.”

 

He pulled out his phone and texted Bucky quickly.

 

_Steve: Tony’s here; looking at my paintings. Come over when you’re finished with class. We can order food. Happy will join us too._

 

_Bucky: Sounds good! See you in fifteen, I’m on the train! Give my honey a kiss for me._

 

Steve rolled his eyes.

 

_Steve: Kiss him yourself! See you soon._

 

“Okay, Bucky’ll be here in a bit,” he said, setting his phone on the coffee table in the living room. Tony was already looking through the canvases leaning against the wall by his easel.

 

“These are good,” Tony said, looking down at the paintings that Steve had worked on for his classes.

 

His professors all told him that he had good technique, but that there was something missing from his paintings, a personal reflection in his work. He was still too uptight, trying for precision instead of letting the energy flow through him.

 

“Thanks,” he said, nervously. “I mean, I feel like I’m still just copying the masters. I haven’t really found my own voice, I guess.”

 

“Wow, these are amazing,” Tony said, whistling. He looked through the other canvases, the ones that Steve turned to face the wall.

 

“Oh! No, those are…” Steve trailed off, flushing. Tony was looking at his weird paintings, the ones that he did when he was high. “They’re not...I mean…”

 

Tony placed the largest canvas on the easel and stood in front of it, looking at it critically. “Whatever the reason you’re shy about showing these, there’s a lot of emotion there. Movement. The repetition of the colors is really kind of stunning - darkness and fear, some anger and...being cold.”

 

Steve moaned in embarrassment, putting his hand over his eyes. “I paint them when I’m high.”

 

Tony laughed, looking over at him. “If you were trying not to shock me, I have to tell you that smoking a little pot is probably the least hardest drug I’ve ever taken. Don’t worry, Steve, I won’t tell the art critics that you were high when you did them - though to be honest, a little bad behavior wouldn’t hurt your reputation.” He looked Steve up and down. “You’re so…pristine; perfection straight out of a bottle or something. Although, that has its draw in the art world as well, if you don’t mind getting hit on by every rich doyenne in the city. Art patronage is just as cutthroat and dirty as any other business, maybe even more so.”  

 

Steve gulped, his eyes widening. “Oh…well…” He trailed off with a nervous little laugh.

 

“Aside from the drug factor, why are you embarrassed of these paintings?”

 

“I don’t know why I’m not able to get to that kind of creative state without it,” he said, sighing deeply. “And it’s so weird that I’m always using the same colors and painting the same thing.”

 

“Maybe whatever this fear is, it’s your voice, your authentic self, trying to climb out of this metaphorical hole,” Tony said, waving his hand over the dark center. He turned and looked at Steve. “What are you trying to escape?”

 

Steve stared at the painting. “I’m not sure. My past? My limits?”

 

Tony turned and stepped closer towards him, meeting his eyes. “When you find out, then you have a story to tell, a narrative that art dealers can use to sell your work.”

 

“I don’t know if I want to sell my work. It feels like selling a part of myself.”

 

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitched, a half smirk forming on his lips. “Every artist needs their first patron. It does feel like you’re selling yourself; it only hurts that first time, though, I promise.”

 

Steve blushed, curling on in himself. It felt like they were having a conversation about something else altogether. He leaned on the arm of the couch and looked up to see Tony standing very close to him.

 

“Your work is beautiful,” Tony said, meeting his gaze. “You should think about showing them at a gallery.” He raised his hand slowly and reached out to cup Steve’s cheek, thumb resting on Steve’s chin. “If you’d allow me, I’d like to introduce you to someone I know. A good friend. She owns a boutique gallery in midtown.”

 

Steve inhaled sharply as the edge of Tony’s thumb brushed along his bottom lip. “Tony, what’re you…”

 

“You really are beautiful,” Tony murmured, his thumb gently pulling down on the plumpest part of Steve’s lip.

 

Unconsciously, Steve licked his lips and tasted the warm salty skin of Tony’s thumb.

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Tony hissed, his brown eyes darkening, sliding his slick thumb along Steve’s lip. He was looking at Steve’s mouth and took a step closer, his leg sliding expertly between Steve’s, so close now that their thighs brushed together.

 

“We--we can’t…” he said, softly, his voice straining with want and guilt. He needed to pull Tony’s hand away and stand up, put distance between them. “Bucky--”

 

Bucky would be home any minute now!  

 

Steve was about to kiss Bucky’s _boyfriend_!

 

“ _I can’t_!” Steve said, forcing himself to move away, slipping past Tony and taking three large steps to the other side of the living room. He took a deep breath and ran his hand over his mouth and face, trying to erase the taste and feel of Tony’s hand on him.

 

“Steve,” Tony called, gently. “Steve, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. I overstepped.”

 

He turned around and stared at Tony, seeing the longing on Tony’s face replaced by his public smile. He wanted to blame Tony, to make him the bad guy, but Steve couldn’t deny his own culpability. If Tony thought Steve was so easy to seduce, then Steve must’ve done something, given away the game, to give him that opening.

 

What the hell was he going to say to Bucky? How was he going to make this right between them?

 

“But...you have Bucky,” Steve said, confused and hurt and a little angry all at the same time. “Why...why would you...what’s in it for you to do that to him? To me?”

 

Before Tony could answer, they both turned as the apartment door opened and Bucky strolled in, kicking the door closed with his foot. He smiled at them, dropping his messenger bag on the floor next to Steve’s backpack.

 

“My two favorite men in the world,” Bucky said, looking from Tony to Steve. He stopped behind the couch and eyed them, his handsome face moving from a wide smile to curious puzzlement. “What’s going on? You two aren’t fighting again, are you?”

 

Steve widened his eyes and looked guiltily at Tony; while Tony just stared at Steve.

 

“Hey, Buck, we weren’t fighting,” Steve said, quietly. “Just a, uh, misunderstanding, is all.”

 

Bucky stared at him, blue eyes narrowing slightly as he looked from Steve to Tony and then back to Steve again. Steve couldn’t maintain his eye contact with Bucky and he dropped his gaze to stare at the floor, shoulders hunching upwards.

  
“Okay, one of you better tell me what the hell’s going on.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side Pairings: Steve/Thor (minor), Natasha/Clint (mentioned), Sam/Sharon Carter (mentioned)

**Reservoir Bar**

**University Place**

 

 

“So let me get this right; you want to go on some friend-dates with me and Nat to get some practice in before you start dating again?” Sam Wilson said, taking a sip of his beer.

 

Steve rubbed his sweaty hands on his thighs and took a deep breath. “Yeah, if you and Nat are willing to try. You don’t have to if it’s weird. I mean, I **know**  it’s weird, but to be honest, Sam, I could really use the help?”

 

Sam cracked a wide smile. “Dude, I’m in. So where’re you going to take me on our first friend-date? Now you know I’m not a cheap date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

 

Steve laughed, giving his close friend an affectionate and grateful smile. “How about just dinner and a movie, something safe?”

 

“All right, I’m game,” Sam said, chuckling. “What did Nat say?”

 

“Natasha’s okay with it, too. She said that she knew some people that she wanted me to meet. There’s this one guy, he’s from one of the Scandinavian countries, I forget which one, he’s in her Marxist Feminism class with Dr Fury and she believes he’s really taking the course to learn and not just because the program is majority women. But it’s not like Dr Fury doesn’t weed out the idiots, no matter the gender, so…”

 

“Damn, son, going from me and Nat to a real date with a Scandinavian dude!”

 

Steve laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m...a little nervous. It’s been a long time since I went on a real date with someone.”

 

Sam took a longer drink of his beer, eyeing Steve. “So what did your boy say to you dating?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Bucky, man, Bucky,” he said, setting the beer bottle on their small, round table.

 

Steve frowned. “What does Bucky have to do with me starting to date?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Sam drawled, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

 

They watched the game on the television screen in companionable silence; despite Steve’s calm exterior, he was still freaking out just a little bit over what happened in his apartment four days ago.

 

Bucky had walked in him and Tony in a tense moment. Steve was weighted with guilt, even though nothing really happened, and God only knew what Tony had told Bucky later. They got through dinner, all three of them doing their best to keep to neutral topics. But Steve could feel Bucky staring at him all night; and Steve couldn’t make eye contact with either of them. He felt like he had betrayed his best friend for even **thinking**   those kinds of thoughts about Bucky and Tony. So he came up with this plan to distance himself from their relationship; to start dating people and trying to find someone that was actually available for him to care about.

 

“You know that this is going to drive Bucky crazy,” Sam said, softly, keeping his eyes on the television screen.

 

Steve let out a soft sigh. “It’s for the best, Sam.”

 

***

 

Steve actually had a lot of fun going on low pressure friend-dates with Sam and Natasha.

 

Sam kept everything casual and fun, and he was a charming son-of-a-gun when he applied himself. A part of Steve wondered what it would be like to date Sam for real; after all, Sam was a good-looking man and he was already a good friend. They had a lot in common and they already shared the same friend group so it wouldn’t be weird to try and integrate someone new into their little family.

 

_“So you going to give me a kiss, hot stuff?”_

_Steve scrunched up his face. “What?”_

_Sam rolled his eyes. “Kiss me, Steve, show me what you got.”_

_“Um, okay?” He mumbled, leaning over to press his lips against Sam’s mouth._

_“Jesus, it’s like kissing my 90-year old Grandma,” Sam complained, giving him a long look._

 

Natasha Romanoff was a little mysterious and a lot intimidating. She was beautiful, there was no doubt there, but she wasn’t the type of woman who appreciated the male gaze. On their second friend-date, they had decided to just hang out at Manhattan Mall, people-watching and eating food court junk. She had caught him off guard when she turned around while they were riding down the escalator, to pull his head down for an unexpected kiss. Steve was pretty sure he flailed a little when she slipped her tongue aggressively into his mouth.

 

_“You don’t like public displays of affection,” she noted, apropos of nothing._

_“It makes people uncomfortable,” he admitted, trying to hide his flushed face. “Mainly me.”_

 

_Natasha stared at him, her eyes seemingly assessing him. Steve didn’t understand what she was assessing, but he was starting to feel kind of inadequate in her eyes._

 

After two weeks of friend-dates, and possibly using that as an excuse to avoid Bucky, Sam and Natasha sat Steve down in his living room to give him comprehensive written and oral feedback.

 

Steve stared at the four-page analysis; it included a couple of charts and diagrams. He flicked his eyes up at Sam and Natasha. “You guys created a dating matrix.”

 

“Dinner and a movie is always a safe bet, but when meeting someone new, you kind of lose like two hours of ‘getting-to-know-you’ time,” Sam said, smartly. “The best dates are the kind where you have to communicate or collaborate on something, to really get to know the other person’s thinking process and temperament.”

 

“You rated my kissing ability.”

 

“Two out of four stars” Natasha sighed and gave him a steady, piercing look. “Dry lips, not enough tongue, but no excessive drooling or no inappropriate touching.”

 

“Girl, you got tongue?” Sam said, snickering. “Boy kisses so chaste, I wondered if he’s ever been laid.”

 

“I’m not a virgin!” Steve said, tossing the paper on the coffee table. He scowled at his two friends as they laughed at him, affectionately.

 

“We gave you an overall grade of **B-**   would date again,” Natasha said, drolly.

 

“Would’ve scored you higher if you gave me a real kiss and not a chicken shit one,” Sam said, smirking at him.

 

“Shut up,” Steve groused, narrowing his eyes at them. “So I’m a loser when it comes to dating, that’s not a surprise.”

 

“You’re not a loser, Steve,” she told him, kindly. “Just a little rusty; but that’s why we went on all those friend-dates with you. To tell you the truth, if I didn’t know you so well, I would want to date you for real.”

 

Steve made a face. “Thanks, I think?”

 

He kind of wanted to know what she meant by that. He thought that the basis of any relationship was knowing someone well. Maybe she thought he was okay to have as a close friend, but not what she wanted in a boyfriend. Instead of feeling rejected, Steve decided that that was good enough for him. If he had enough qualities to have Natasha’s friendship, then that was good enough.

 

“You’re ready, son,” Sam declared, giving him a fond look.

 

“You think so?” Steve said, uncertainly. He really did kind of want to start dating; at least, he needed to have a distraction from Bucky and Tony.

 

Natasha smiled at him. “Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to Thor.”

 

“Thor?”

 

“Yeah, Prince Thor of Sweden.”

 

“You’ll really like him,” Sam said, confidently. “He’s a real nice guy; buff as all hell but sweet like an overgrown kitten.”

 

Steve sat up straight in the armchair. “Thor Odinson? **Crown** **Prince**   Thor Odinson!”

 

Natasha gave him a smug look. “I told you that I knew a Prince.”

 

Steve gaped at her. “I thought you meant it like-like, ‘he’s a real prince of a guy,’ not ‘he’s an actual member of the royal family of the Kingdom of Sweden’!”

 

Sam laughed, falling back on the couch. “Steve, you can be a real-life Princess!”

 

“I really hate you both.”

 

***

 

**Mudspot**

**307 East 9 th Street**

**East Village**

 

Thor’s full title was _His Royal Highness Crown Prince Thor, Son of Odin, Duke of Asgard, of the Kingdom of Sweden._

 

“But everyone just calls him Thor,” Natasha said, patting Steve’s shoulder.

 

They were sitting in a popular local cafe, a few blocks from NYU, and Natasha agreed to be the middleman. Steve had spent far too much time trying to figure out what to wear, defeatedly selecting his best plaid shirt and black pants.

 

_“Is that what you’re wearing?” Natasha said, giving him a critical once over._

_“I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard?”_

_She rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, you can play to your strengths.”_

_“Which are?” He said, curiously._

_“Your ass looks perfect in those pants.”_

 

Steve was already pretty nervous; he didn’t need the added reminder that he was meeting royalty.

 

She leaned closer to him, dropping her voice low. “Apparently, he refers to his cock as Mjolnir the Mighty--”

 

Steve choked on his spit, his face turning bright red.

 

“--you’ll probably be in for a real good time riding his thunderbolt.”

 

“Ohmygod, please stop talking,” Steve begged, pushing her away.

 

“My friends!”

 

Steve looked up to see a tall, widely built young man with longish dark blond hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. It should’ve looked ridiculous, like a throwback to Fabio, but Thor looked comfortable and confident. Steve was attracted to confidence. Thor wore a dark suit, the shirt unbuttoned, and he held up his hands in the air. He was gorgeous, but the booming voice and the unself-conscious and genuine smile on his handsome face made Prince Thor look like he was an approachable kind of guy.

 

“Natasha!” Thor called, heading for their table with long strides and a deep, throaty chuckle. “You are a sight for these sore eyes! It has been too long.”

 

Natasha stood and was immediately engulfed in Thor’s bear hug. “I saw you in class two days ago, dork.”

 

“Nevertheless, time seems to move like syrup and I am always glad to meet you once again,” he said, blue eyes moving to look at Steve as he stood up. “You must be Steven Rogers.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness,” Steve said, caught between holding out his hand and giving an awkward, graceless bow.

 

Thor laughed, merrily, and shook Steve’s hand with a firm grip, pulling him in for a hug. “It is my pleasure and honor to meet you, Steven. Please, just address me as Thor; there are no politics or kingdoms tonight.”

 

Steve caught the scent of his cologne, the press of Thor’s chest and muscles against him, and he licked his bottom lip as he met Thor’s smile with a shy grin of his own.

 

“So, my friends, what are we to do on this fair eve? The weather is perfect for an adventure and I am ready to carouse this wonderful city to enjoy all of her delights,” Thor said, putting one hand on Steve’s shoulder and his other on Natasha’s shoulder. “And with companions such as you, it is to be a glorious adventure I am certain.”

 

“I have a date,” Natasha said, sliding her cunning eyes to Steve.

 

Steve’s eyes widened at her sudden betrayal. “But I thought--”

 

“You two boys get to know each other better. Steve’s got a really fun date lined up for the two of you tonight and I’m not going to be your third wheel or chaperone.”

 

“Indeed?” Thor said, turning his gaze on Steve, a small smile on his lips.

 

“Yep,” she said, smirking. She patted Steve on the back and got on her tiptoes to kiss Thor’s cheek. “Be nice to him, Thor, he’s one of my best friends.”

 

“I shall be a gentleman of discretion,” Thor said, meeting Steve’s eyes.

 

She snorted, winking at Steve. “Oh, I bet you will. Have a good night, darlings.”

 

Steve gave her a scowl, but waved goodbye as she made her way out of the cafe. He turned and smiled at Thor. “Why don’t we sit for a little bit? It’s still kind of early. Can I buy you a drink?”

 

Thor sat down, the cozy cafe furniture looked like miniatures, and Steve wondered if Thor ever broke chairs or tables by accident. Then he wondered if there was truth to Mjolnir and if he had ever broken someone’s bed.

 

“I would love refreshment, Steven, and I thank you for your generosity,” Thor said, grandly. “Could I have a delicious concoction called Hot Chocolate?”

 

Steve chuckled, nodding. “Sure, _Mud_   makes a pretty awesome Hot Chocolate. I’ll be right back.”

 

“Thank you, Steven.”

 

He stood in line by the bar and looked over at their table in the corner; he had been so drawn in by Thor’s friendliness and oddly formal speech that he had only just noticed that the people in the cafe were sneaking pictures of the Crown Prince on their phones. Thor didn’t seem all that bothered; he leaned casually in his chair, arm leaning on the chair back next to him, legs delicately crossed, and he chatted freely with the people around him.

 

By the time Steve came back to their table, Thor had taken a dozen selfies with various cafe customers, laughing boisterously and comfortable with their attention, but he politely excused himself when Steve placed their drinks on the table, focusing on Steve.

 

“It must be so strange to always live in the spotlight,” Steve said, sitting across from him.

 

“I am my father’s first son and to take the throne. It does not seem so peculiar to me; though I admit I was perplexed by the attention when I was a young boy. I am to be the King of my country, and much of my life will be a public one, whether I choose it or not, so I have simply chosen to embrace my role and to offer friendship to those who require it of me.”

 

He nodded. “Yeah. I have a friend -- well, my best friend’s boyfriend is kind of famous and in the spotlight a lot -- and it was an adjustment for my friend to be part of that life.”

 

“Aye, I grant that it is not always easy,” Thor said, softly. “Not everyone is suited to the brutal realities of a public life.”

 

He watched as Thor took a drink of his hot chocolate, the creamy foam clinging to his nose and upper lip. Steve chuckled, handing him a napkin.

 

“ _Ahhhhhhh_...such delights; we do not have this in my country. We have something similar, far more of a stout taste than sweet,” Thor told him, wiping his nose and mouth neatly.

 

“Nat said that you’re studying History at NYU, when do you graduate?”

 

Thor looked wistful. “Next May. I’ve been away from home for too long, but I have fallen in love with my adopted city. New York is so different from Stockholm. Tell me, Steven, have you ever visited my beloved homeland?”

 

Steve grinned. “I’ve been all over Europe, but not to Sweden.”

 

“Then you must accompany me upon my return. I will lead you on an adventurous tour of my country. You may even meet my parents, Odin and Frigga, and my brother, Loki. They have always welcomed visitations from my new friends from my travels. There is plenty of room in the Stockholm Palace; though my parents prefer to live at Drottningholm in the later years of their service to our people,” Thor said, looking at Steve. “To be honest, I do believe that Drottningholm is far lovelier than Versailles and that is why my parents have retired to the countryside.”

 

“That sounds amazing, Thor, thank you,” he said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “I hope that we’ll remain friends and I’ll be able to have some of your time.”

 

Thor leaned his elbows on the table and gazed at Steve. “It would be my pleasure.”

 

The way that he said it -- nearly purred it while giving Steve that look of open desire -- made Steve’s stomach tighten with want. Steve looked away, a small smile forming on his lips, feeling both bashful and turned on. Thor gave a soft laugh and he leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath.

 

“So, tell me about your plans for our date tonight. Natasha was quite coy with me, but now that we are well met, I am even more curious and looking forward our eve together.”

 

Steve swallowed and licked his lips nervously, looking up to meet Thor’s happy gaze. “Well, I have it on good authority that it shouldn’t be anything so dull as dinner and a movie. So I thought it would be a lot of fun if we could try something different, if you’re game for it.”

 

“One thing you will come to quickly know about me, Steven, is that I am often game for anything,” Thor said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

 

***

 

**Reservoir Bar**

**One Month Later**

 

That first date with Thor started with them spending nearly the whole night at the Brooklyn Night Bazaar, staying out until about 1 AM as they ate their weight in market food, played a round of ultra- competitive mini-golf, and serenaded each other in the private karaoke rooms. Steve went for the old standards like “It Had to be You” and “New York, New York” while Thor belted out “My Heart Will Go On” and “Black Hole Sun.”

 

Steve hadn’t had so much fun in his whole life and Thor really was game for anything. For a man who had about a hundred pounds of muscle on Steve, Thor was super gentle, sweet, and hilariously funny. Not only that, all of Steve’s friends really liked Thor a lot; and he was welcomed to their meet ups at their usual hangout at the Reservoir Bar.

 

“The next round is on me, my friends,” Thor said, getting to his feet as everyone at the table cheered.

 

“Steve, you’ve got to locked that down, son,” Sam said, giggling. “Put a ring on it before someone else steals him.”

 

“Awww come on, Sam, we’ve only been dating for a month,” Steve said, blushing.

 

“I’m not kidding, Steve! If you’re not going to keep him, then I’m going to make my move,” Sam teased, leaning against Natasha’s new boyfriend, Clint. “Don’t you think so, Barton?”

 

Clint smirked, flicking his eyes to Natasha. “I do what the lady tells me to do.”

 

“Smart man,” Natasha said, cocking her eyebrow at him.

 

Steve smiled, looking at his friends. He was glad Natasha had someone. Clint had turned out to be the mysterious “date” that she ditched Steve and Thor for; Steve and Sam grilled them mercilessly when they finally came out and told them that she and Clint were officially dating.

 

_“Okay, to be fair, this isn’t like a major shock or nothing,” Sam said, grinning at the two of them. He punched Clint in the arm. “Dude, I can’t believe you didn’t brag about this!”_

_Clint laughed, looking at Natasha. “Are you fucking kidding me, she’d slit my throat!”_

_Natasha narrowed her eyes at them. “You’d die with a smile on your lips and never know it.”_

_“Yeah, it’s probably a long time coming,” Steve acknowledged, smiling widely. “I’m happy for the two of you.”_

 

“Maybe you should put your money where your mouth is, Sam,” Natasha said, giving him a sly look. “Sharon Carter’s not going to be on the market for long. Better get that ring ready.”

 

Sam pressed his lips together and chortled, shaking his head. “Shit. How did you find out?”

 

“It’s like she’s a spy or something, she always knows,” Clint told him, laughing.

 

“Seriously, how do you know everything that’s going on? Are you secretly working on being a paparazzi or something?” Sam teased.

 

Natasha sighed. “None of you know how to keep a secret.”

 

They all fervently protested Natasha’s assessment of them, laughing riotously as Thor brought back two pitchers of beer, setting them on their wide table. He took his seat next to Steve and poured everyone a round of beers.

 

“Thank you, Thor,” Steve said, curling his arm around Thor’s shoulders.

 

“It is my pleasure,” Thor said, turning to smile at him, meeting Steve’s eyes. Steve leaned over and gave Thor a kiss on his cheek.

 

“I see the lovebirds are at it again,” Bucky said, walking to their table.

 

“Bucky!” Steve said, getting to his feet and walking around everyone to give Bucky a proper hug. “I’m so glad you made it! Is Tony with you?”

 

“He’s working on a new project so I can’t drag him out of his workshop to save a life,” Bucky said, but the complaint was tinged with love and exasperation, so Steve just laughed and patted Bucky’s back, grabbing a free chair for him and pulling it next to Steve’s own chair. “Heya, everyone, good to see the old gang.” He unfurled his scarf and shrugged off his backpack, looking at Thor. “Hey, Son of Odin, how’re they hanging?”

 

“They hang mighty,” Thor said, as everyone laughed.

 

“Why don’t you ask Steve if he’s able to wield Mjolnir yet,” Natasha said, smirking.

 

“ _Ahhh_! To be fair, that nickname is all in great jest, though in all frankness, it is still mighty to behold,” Thor said, looking over at Steve.

 

“Why does it always have to be about sex?” Steve complained, rolling his eyes.

 

“Don’t ask why, Steve, just share the gory details,” Sam told him, chuckling.

 

“You know that Stevie is a gentleman and doesn’t kiss and tell,” Bucky said, putting his arm behind Steve’s chair and reaching up to slide his fingers into the back of Steve’s hair.

 

Steve smiled, caught off guard by Bucky’s affectionate touch, a little bit of his old guilt rearing its ugly head. He and Bucky never talked about that day in the apartment; sometimes, he wondered if Bucky said things that alluded to that day. Unsurprisingly, Tony had stopped tracking him down to spend time with him; he would never admit it to anyone, but he missed Tony’s afternoon visits.

 

“My ma would slap my head,” Steve said, sitting up in his chair.

 

Bucky leaned in close, petting Steve’s head. “You’re such a good boy, Stevie.”

 

“I concur with Bucky’s words - Steven is a fine man of the best character. It is a pleasure to be his romantic companion.”

 

Steve blushed, shaking his head. “Come on, guys, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

 

“Not just,” Thor said, smiling at him. “It is rare to find someone who is straightforward and unpretentious. In my dealings with romantic partners, you are a breath of fresh air.”

 

“Seriously, Steve, better put a ring on him,” Sam said, holding up his hand to do the Beyoncé “Single Ladies” dance.

 

With the exception of Bucky, the whole table broke out into song, all of them doing the dance in their chairs.

 

Then Thor got up and started shaking his hips, hand up in the air. “I know of this song! _Oh-oh-ohhhhh, oh oh oh, oh-oh-ohhhhhh --_ ”

 

“Why do I know you people,” Steve said, leaning back in his chair and laughing at their antics. He shivered when he felt Bucky’s thumb trace a circle on the back of his shoulder.

 

***

 

**Restaurant Aquavit**

**65 East 55th Street**

 

To say that New York City was a small town was like calling a Ferrari a nice car. That said, Steve never really expected to run into Bucky and Tony during his date nights with Thor. It wasn’t that Tony was so pretentious or snobby that he and Bucky were only seen in Michelin star restaurants; there were plenty of times when Tony and Bucky were photographed at mom-and-pop diners in Hell’s Kitchen or a hipster deli in Tribeca or the secret bar in Grand Central Station.

 

But Steve forgot that Tony Stark existed in that glamorous world where his business colleagues were other billionaires and that he had a list of acquaintances that ran the gamut from New York’s oldest Upper East Side families to Hollywood celebrities.

 

When Thor said that he wanted to take Steve to dinner to experience the flavors and foods of his beloved Sweden, Steve searched on Yelp to find the best Swedish restaurant to take Thor on their date. Restaurant Aquavit was usually out of his price range, but he wanted Thor to have a lovely experience and Steve was too shy to make Thor pay.

 

_“You do remember that I am a Crown Prince and I can afford to indulge us,” Thor said, looking at Steve._

_Steve shrugged. “Sure; but I want to take us there. You can get the next one.”_

_Thor ran his large hand down Steve’s shoulder. “You do not need to try and impress me, Steven. I am not easily impressed by material things; spending time with you is far the greater worth.”_

_“Wow, when you say things like that to me…” Steve said, grinning helplessly at Thor._

_Thor chuckled, bending to place a soft kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Then I have not brought shame to my reputation.”_

 

It took quite a lot of calls and cajoling, but Steve was finally able to wrangle a dinner reservation for them two weeks out. He was giddy with pleasure -- getting dressed in his best suit, shining his black shoes, and having Natasha do something miraculous with his hair -- and when he met Thor outside the restaurant, he was gratified by the way Thor looked at him, something like pride and smugness and pleasure all mixed together.

 

“Your Highness,” the Maitre’D said, maintaining his professionalism as he checked his reservations book. “We had no idea that you would be dining here this evening. I’m afraid it’s a full house but --”

 

“We do have reservations,” Thor said, putting his hand on Steve’s back. “It is under the name Steven Rogers.”

 

The Maitre’D blinked once and stared at Steve, then caught himself as he picked up two black leather folders. “Pardon me, Your Highness. Mr Rogers. Your table is right this way.”

 

The interior of the restaurant was brightly lit, spacious, contemporary, and maybe a little austere. Steve liked the openness of the space; not overly decorated. It gave him the feeling that the restaurant focused on the presentation of its food, not just the interior furnishing. There were only a few tables in the main dining room, all of them occupied or holding discreet “Reserved” table settings. The other guests turned to look at Thor, some of them even looked at Steve, as the Maitre’D seated them in a prime location -- to the right, in a comfortable looking booth, near the center of the dining room. Steve smiled to himself as he slid into his leather booth seat, thinking that this was probably a last minute switch, and he kind of felt bad for the guests who would end up at a not-so-prime table.

 

A moment later, their waitress delivered their drinks and a selected spread of appetizers. Steve paid attention as Thor explained each dish, saying their names with that gorgeous roll of his tongue, and chuckling as Steve attempted to repeat them with his stubborn Brooklyn tongue.

 

A sunny, blonde haired woman wearing a white chef’s jacket walked out from the back of the house, approaching their table with a wide smile.

 

“Your Highness,” she said, looking at Thor. “It is such a pleasure to have you join us tonight.”

 

Thor got to his feet and Steve followed; watching as the petite woman gave a little bow to Thor.

 

“Thank you, Chef Blomgren, I have missed my mother’s meals and I am honored that Aquavit gives me a chance to feel that I am home again,” Thor said, shaking her hand. “May I introduce my companion, Steven Rogers. Steven, this is Chef Emma Blomgren. She is simply a genius.”

 

Steve shook her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

 

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” she said, giving Thor an amused look. “His Highness flatters me, of course. I could never accept such a comparison to Queen Frigga’s amazing cooking. Please, please sit down and relax. I was wondering if you would allow me the privilege of creating for you some familiar Swedish dishes.”

 

Thor looked dazzled and he shared a smile with Steve. “Would you mind? I can promise you that it will be a feast you will never forget.”

 

“Sure,” Steve said, nodding, desperately hiding that he would probably have ten bucks left to his name after cleaning out his checking account to pay their dinner bill. “I think it would be our honor.”

 

“That’s wonderful. I’ll send out some more things for you to nibble on and we will begin,” the Chef said, giving Thor a little curtsey and moving off towards the kitchens.

 

“I can read the expression on your face, Steven,” Thor said, kindly. “If you would indulge me to switch our dates so that this one is on me and that you get the next one, I would be grateful.”

 

The sting of pride hit Steve in his guts, but he couldn’t even imagine what a tailor-made dinner would cost him, so maybe this battle wasn’t one to fight.

 

“I think that’s a good idea, Thor,” Steve said, meeting his eyes with a small smile. “Thank you.”

 

“My friend, I would never insult your generosity.”

 

“Well, look who we have here.”

 

Steve inhaled sharply and turned to look at Tony and Bucky.

 

It had been over a month since Steve last saw Tony and he blinked and looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up in remembered shame.

 

Steve bit his lip and smiled at Tony and Bucky. They were dressed elegantly; both wearing tailored suits, with Tony in light gray and Bucky in black. Always one to stand out, Tony wore orange-lensed glasses; it should’ve looked tacky, but he always seemed to pull it off.

 

“Fancy running into you two. You just never know who you’re going to run into in a classy joint like this,” Tony said, leaning back against Bucky and gazing at Steve.

 

“It’s good to see you,” Steve said, as he and Thor got to their feet to shake hands.

 

“Hey, we should sit together,” Tony said, brightly. “When was the last time you went on a double date?”

 

“I think it was in the third grade, Tony,” Bucky said, amusedly.   

 

“Good evening, friends,” Thor said, standing regally, his height impressive and definitely meant to be intimidating. “Mr Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you once again.”

 

Not that Tony was easily intimidated, Steve thought, watching the two of them.

 

“Your Highness,” Tony said, grinning as he shook Thor’s hand. “Since we’re all here, why don’t we get them to put some tables together for us, huh?”

 

“We don’t want to intrude,” Steve said, hesitantly.

 

Bucky gave him a long look and then turned his sniper stare at Thor, leaving Tony to negotiate the logistics. Steve knew, instinctively, that this wasn’t coincidence. This was the third time that Bucky and Tony _just  happened_  to show up at the same place where Steve and Thor were having their date.

 

The Maitre’D lowered his head and spoke quietly in Tony’s ear.

 

“Oh cool, they’re going to give us the Nobel Room,” Tony said, winking at Steve. He grabbed Bucky’s hand and they started following the Maitre’D, with Tony playing the whole room, acknowledging people and shaking hands as he went.

 

“If you would prefer to dine here…”

 

Steve smiled and got out of his booth seat. “Maybe eating in a private area will be better for all of us.”

 

***

 

The Nobel Room was a large, private dining area behind the main room. It was large enough to hold ten round tables, all neatly covered with pristine white tablecloths. The wait staff worked quickly and competently as they set up a table for four.

 

“Isn’t this cozy?” Tony said, leaning back in his chair, his arm slung casually behind Bucky. “So what are you two lovebirds been up to?”

 

“I am teaching Steven the foods of my country,” Thor said, confidently. “We are friends with Chef Blomgren and she will be creating some special dishes for our tasting. Perhaps we should let her know that we have added to our company.”

 

A member of the wait staff arrived as Thor turned in his chair, giving the young man directions, as another waiter took their drink orders, and a third came with a tray of fresh appetizers. Steve was just trying to keep up with all the activity, stealing a glance at Bucky and then at Tony, weirdly uncomfortable with the way that they stared at him.

 

Steve stifled a sigh and reached for his water glass, taking a long sip.

 

This was going to be a long night.

 

***

 

**Steve’s Apartment**

**Brooklyn**

 

Steve unlocked the front door and smiled shyly over his shoulder at Thor, who was giving him a very happy smile, nearly bouncing on his feet.

 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Steve said, flipping on the light switch as he waved Thor inside.

 

He watched as Thor looked around his living room, a fond smile on his face. “You may believe it is a humble abode, but it is your home and that is all that matters.”

 

Steve shut the door and chuckled. “Thanks, Thor, you always know what to say.” He took of his suit jacket and folded it neatly on the back of his couch. “Can I get you something to drink?”

 

“Whatever you will have, please; don’t trouble yourself unnecessarily.”

 

“I’ll make some hot chocolate,” he said, heading into the kitchen. “Make yourself at home! Put on some music or turn on the TV.”

 

“Aye, thank you,” Thor said, looking at his paintings. “Are these yours?”

 

Steve leaned out from the kitchen and chuckled. “Yeah, I’m working on some personal projects to build my portfolio.”

 

He added water into the carafe and poured it into his coffeemaker to heat the water, got down the box of instant hot chocolate from the cabinet, and checked the cleanliness of the two mugs on the drying rack by the sink. He opened the packets and filled each of the mugs.

 

“You have a keen eye for colors,” Thor said, moving from one canvas to another.

 

“Thanks,” he called, smiling down at the kitchen counter, his hands tapping with nervous energy as he waited for the coffee machine to finish brewing hot water through the filter.

 

It was quiet in the living room so Steve peeked around the edge of the wall to check on Thor, who was still looking through the various canvases leaning against the wall. Steve grabbed the carafe and poured hot water into the mugs, carefully stirring the hot chocolate powder with a spoon to get to an even consistency. He replaced the carafe and put two large marshmallows in each mug.

 

“Okay, here we go,” Steve said, walking out of the kitchen, carrying a mug in each hand.

 

Thor smiled and accepted the mug with his thanks. “I admire your art, Steven.”

 

Steve took a careful sip of his hot chocolate and grinned. He was a modest person by nature, but Steve knew he had some talent. He may not ever be a Pollack or a Rothko, but his work was his own and he liked what he created.

 

“Thanks,” he said, licking his lips and setting his mug on the coffee table. “Do you want to talk about art or do you want to make out a little?”

 

Thor chuckled, blue eyes tracing the shape of Steve’s face, dropping to look at his mouth. “You are quite a distraction. How could I ever hold my attention on the discussion of artistic endeavors when I would only stare at the way that your mouth moved?”

 

Steve giggled and shook his head. “You say the strangest things, but it always sounds really good when you say it.”

 

Thor set his mug next to Steve’s and stood up, reaching for him. He curved his hands on Steve’s waist, palms warm through the layer of his dress shirt, and stepped closer to Steve.

 

The kiss started out as a tease, Thor brushing his lips against Steve’s mouth, his breath warm against Steve’s cheek. Steve reached up and curled his arms around Thor’s neck, getting up on his tiptoes so he could press himself against Thor’s chest, nearly hanging off of him. Thor’s arm wrapped around Steve’s lower back to hold him up easier, licking gently along Steve’s bottom lip.

 

Steve made a soft, murmuring noise, tilting his head to the side as Thor’s tongue slid between his lips. As kisses went, it was slow and sweet, the kind that Steve could savor. There was no hurry, no rush to get into bed; it was just a gentle exchange of kisses with just a hint of heat.

 

He moaned when he felt one of Thor’s hands slide down his back to playfully cup his ass, squeezing as he dragged Steve even closer, one generously muscled thigh moving between his legs to give him something to grind his hardening cock against. Thor chuckled throatily as he took advantage of Steve’s opened mouth, deepening the kiss.

 

“What the fuck is this?”

 

Shocked, Steve pulled from Thor’s hold, staring at Bucky in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

 

Bucky stalked into the living room, hands on his hips as he glared at Thor and then at Steve. “What is **he**   doing here?”

 

“We’re trying to finish the date that you and Tony interrupted,” he said, snarkily.

 

Thor looked from Bucky to Steve and then back at Bucky. “Perhaps I should leave.”

 

“No, wait, don’t go,” Steve said, turning to look at Thor.

 

“I think it’s best, yeah,” Bucky said, heatedly, nodding at the door to Thor.

 

Thor gave a polite grin and looked at Steve, leaning in close to give him a kiss. Steve frowned, looking up at Thor. That seemed kind of like a last kiss to him.

 

“I believe you should speak to your friend, Steven,” he said, kindly.

 

“Thor—“

 

“Good eve, my friend, I will call upon you tomorrow,” Thor said, smiling reassuringly at Steve. “Good eve, Bucky.”

 

“Yeah, night,” Bucky said, watching as Thor moved through the living room to the apartment door.

 

Steve waited until Thor left his apartment before turning to glare at Bucky. “What the hell is your problem?”

 

“My problem? My problem is you dating that meat sack from Sweden!” Bucky shouted at him.

 

Steve exhaled harshly. “Don’t call him that. He’s been nothing but sweet and kind! Are you trying to ruin the first real relationship I’ve had since…since…it’s been so long, I don’t even remember the last time I had a relationship!”

 

“I’m pretty sure I was your last boyfriend!”

 

“But you’re not my boyfriend now, are you! You’re with Stark or did you conveniently forget your billionaire philanthropist boyfriend?”

 

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Tony is mine.”

 

Steve sneered at him. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that. Why don’t you go back to him in his ugly ass tower!”

 

He watched as Bucky walked around the couch, eyes like steel gray as he zoned in on Steve. “You shouldn’t be dating Thor; you shouldn’t be dating anyone, Stevie. You’re mine, too.”

 

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Why are you so possessive? We haven’t been together in years! You lost that right to claim me as anything but as your best friend – and I’m starting to have some serious doubts that you even know what that means when you chase away the best thing that’s happened to me in—“

 

Bucky growled, standing in front of him. “I’m the best thing to ever happen to you—“

 

“—give me a break—“

 

“—you’ll always belong to me; best friend or lover and everything in between so shut your face, Stevie!”

 

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you—“

 

“And the only people who have any right to love you is me—“ Bucky said, cutting him off. “—me and Tony.”

 

Steve opened his mouth and then stopped, not comprehending what Bucky was talking about.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

He stared at his best friend; it was obvious that both of them were shocked by what Bucky just said. Steve didn’t want to believe, didn’t dare to even hope, that anything Bucky just said could be true. How could it be true? He might be able to believe that Bucky still had feelings for him. As friends, they really were possessive of each other; but never once did Steve consider that Bucky **and**   Tony would…would want him.

 

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He placed his palms on Steve’s shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Sorry, I’m sorry; this was not how I was going to start this.”

 

“I don’t understand,” he said, softly.

 

“Jesus, I’m such a stupid fucker,” Bucky said, meeting Steve’s eyes. He cupped Steve’s face with both of his hands and met Steve’s eyes. “I’m always going to be in love with you, Stevie.”

 

“What about Tony?”

 

Bucky gave a small grin. “He thinks you’re hot stuff; but give him a chance and he’ll fall for you, if he isn’t already there. You’re so easy to love.”

 

“So…is this like a threesome?” Was it just sex?

 

“Not just sex, Steve,” Bucky said, a little amused. “I can read your mind. It’s more like a triad; a real relationship.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Do you think you and Tony could have feelings for each other? Do you like him?”

 

Steve blushed, looking away.

 

Bucky gave a small chuckle, rubbing his thumbs across Steve’s blushing cheeks. “Tony told me what happened that day, you know, right before I came home. He thought he’d ruined everything, but he also thought that you would’ve let him kiss you.”

 

“Sorry—“

 

“Don’t apologize,” he said, smiling. “I’m not mad or jealous or anything like that. I’m glad you find him attractive; that you want him, too.”

 

Steve gave him a long, steady look. “You’d tell me the truth if this isn’t what you truly want, right? Tony’s not pushing you into this, is he? It’s not an ultimatum or—“

 

“Why do you always think that he’s such a bad guy? He’s not, Steve; he’s one of the good ones,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I mean, Tony’s not perfect by any means; he’s got impulse control issues and he’s not always the best at communicating. But I’m not all that perfect either; it’s a relationship, we’re working on things and we’re good, we’re stronger together. We just think we could be even stronger with you.”

 

He licked his hips and sighed. “I don’t know what to say, Buck.”

 

“Tell me what you’re thinking in there,” Bucky said, tapping Steve’s forehead gently. “What’re you afraid of about this?”

 

Steve took a fortifying breath. “I’m afraid that I’m just going to be third wheel.”

 

“ **Never** ,” he said, shaking his head. “Tony and I have talked about this for a long time. You’re not going to be a third wheel; you’re not going to get left behind. None of us is. Tony won’t let that happen to either of us, or to himself.”

 

“Are you sure? Are you really sure about this, Bucky? Because…because if we do this, if I try, and if you change your mind later—“

 

“Never going to happen—“

 

“—listen to me; if you change your mind later and I lose you as my best friend, too, I’m not…I’m not going to survive that,” he said, softly.

 

“Do you love me?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You know I do; never stopped.”

 

“Do you like Tony?”

 

He gave Bucky an exasperated look, a smile on his lips. “Yes, even though he drives me crazy.”

 

Bucky chuckled, smiling widely. “Do you trust me?”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“Then take that leap with me. Jump out of the proverbial plane with me and trust that I have a parachute big enough for both of us.”

 

And that was the bottom line; Steve did trust Bucky. They would leap together, even without knowing there was a safety net below them, because they would do it together.

 

“How do we do this?”

 

“Come over to the penthouse for dinner – **just**   dinner; no expectations or anything like that. Tony promised to keep things low key,” Bucky said, reassuringly. “There’s no pressure. We just want to spend time with you, Stevie. The last two months while you were going out with that Swedish—“

 

Steve frowned, cutting off Bucky’s slur against Thor.

 

“—with Thor, we’ve been going out of our minds. We thought we’d lose you completely.” Bucky said, earnestly. “So come for dinner, spend time with us. We missed you.”

 

“I missed you, too,” he said, softly. “Both of you. I missed Tony just showing up and hanging out with me.”   


Bucky grinned. “He misses your afternoon dates, too.”

 

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and hugged him, holding him close and putting his forehead against Bucky’s forehead. They just stayed like that for a long time, Steve lost track for how long, just happy to have Bucky back again.

 

He could imagine a whole life with Bucky and Tony. For one thing, it would never be boring; and for another, if Steve let his imagination run a little wild, the sex would be incredible.

 

Bucky chuckled, brushing his groin against Steve’s, feeling him shudder in reaction. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, Stevie.”

 

“Shut up. Don’t ruin the moment,” he said, grinning.

 

He pressed his mouth against Bucky’s lips and gave him a soft kiss, a promise for more later. He knew Bucky wouldn’t push for more – he wouldn’t push for anything until Steve was ready. And Steve felt a little tinge of guilt, kissing Bucky without Tony knowing.

 

“Okay,” Bucky said, looking at Steve. “Come for dinner tomorrow night; just come over after your last class and hang out with Tony.”

 

He searched Bucky’s face to make sure that it would be okay. If anything, Bucky looked relieved and happy, maybe a little bit smug and victorious. But it was a good look on him and one that Steve was familiar with seeing on Bucky’s face.

 

Okay,” he whispered, kissing Bucky’s cheek. “Okay to everything.”

 

***

 

**Tony’s Penthouse**

**Stark Tower**

 

Steve was amused; low key in Tony’s world meant inviting a famous celebrity chef, a name even Steve would recognize, to make them a Michelin star quality dinner. Steve had to admit that he was just a little bit star struck, expecting the chef to yell obscenities at them since he recruited Steve and Bucky to act as his sous chefs in the kitchen. Tony, of course, sat at the counter, enjoying the hilarity of Steve trying to impress anyone with his horrible cooking skills.

 

“The trick is to keep to a steady tempo when you’re chopping,” the Chef said, demonstrating his prowess with the knife as he neatly chopped the white onion into a neat pile of evenly diced pieces in five seconds. “Don’t overthink it; keep your eyes on what you’re doing and let instinct take over.”

 

“I’m going to cut off my fingers if I go any faster,” Steve said, trying desperately not to have to make it to the Emergency Room and ruin his dinner date with Bucky and Tony.

 

The Chef chuckled, looking at Steve’s cutting board. “Curve your fingers inwards, darling, and angle the knife blade **away**   from them.”

 

Bucky snorted, trying to hide his laughter.

 

“Shut it, Barnes!”

 

“My God, Bucky, how have you annihilated the tomatoes?” The Chef teased, looking at the hacked mess of chopped tomatoes on Bucky’s cutting board.

 

Then it was Steve’s turn to snicker, meeting Tony’s eyes and feeling shy, his cheeks flushing a little.

 

The Chef was ever charming and skilled at making Steve and Bucky feel at ease with him in the kitchen, and soon enough, they had successfully completed dinner service with the Chef plating everything to look stunningly gorgeous. It was almost a shame to eat the meal and Steve took a few pictures of the food, the table setting, and a few selfies with the Chef.

 

“I appreciate you coming over while you’re in town.”

 

The Chef laughed. “It was my pleasure; in fact, the next time you’re in LA, you’ll have to be a guest at the chef’s table in the kitchen.”

 

“Anytime you want me on the show, just let Pepper know the filming schedule and I’ll be there,” Tony said, shaking the Chef’s hand.

 

The rest of dinner went extremely well; all three of them pleasantly stuffed with delicious food and wine, and licking their spoons of the raspberry foam dessert.

 

Steve let out a pleased little moan at the sweet taste and caught Bucky and Tony staring at him. He flushed, looking down into his dish.

 

“I think you should kiss,” Bucky said, out of nowhere.

 

Steve gasped and looked up, eyes widening at Bucky and at Tony.

 

“Just a kiss; just give it a try and see if there’s any chemistry.”

 

He already knew that there was chemistry between him and Tony; and he didn’t even know why he was thinking of protesting.

 

Tony looked at him, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled at Steve. “Up to you, sport.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes at the nickname, but he got up to put his dish in the sink. He washed his hands and dried them on a kitchen towel, walking back towards the dining room. He leaned against the edge of the counter and smiled.

 

“Okay, just a kiss,” he agreed, watching as Tony pushed back his chair to saunter towards him.

 

Tony’s hands were warm and firm, sliding up and down Steve’s arms. “I promise not to bite.”

 

Bucky chuckled, leaning in his chair. “Stevie likes a little biting; he likes it a little kinky.”

 

Tony’s smile grew as he raised an eyebrow, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Is that so?”

 

“You talk too much,” Steve murmured, leaning down slightly and tilting his head, the tip of his nose brushing against Tony’s cheek as he breathed in Tony’s musky cologne.

 

His hands moved to Tony’s hips, holding him close, as he pressed his lips against Tony’s mouth, the tickle of his mustache and goatee distracting him.

 

“ _Hmmmm_ …that was sweet,” Tony murmured, pulling him in for a real kiss, hot tongue slipping between Steve’s lips.

 

Steve moaned, wrapping his arms around Tony, holding him close, letting Tony take control of the kiss, his mind reeling at the taste and smell and feel of Tony Stark against him. He allowed himself to enjoy it, chasing after Tony’s tongue into his mouth, licking his tongue and tickling the roof of his mouth.

 

“That is so hot,” Bucky murmured, watching them with dark eyes, mouth parted.

 

Steve buried his face against Tony’s neck, inhaling the scent of him, as Tony held out his hand for Bucky, beckoning him to join them.

 

Bucky didn’t hesitate, nearly tipping back his chair in his hurry to get to them. He wrapped one arm around Tony, the other around Steve, and kissed Steve deeply, roughly; then he turned and kissed Tony, just as deeply and as roughly, as Steve kissed down Tony’s lean neck, brushing his lips against his earlobe and sucking on it gently.

 

“You’re shaking,” Tony said, softly, meeting Steve’s eyes. His hand stroked Steve’s back gently.

 

“Don’t stop,” Steve whispered, trembling against both of them. “Don’t stop.”

 

He never wanted this to end.


End file.
